


By Your Side

by Wolfsheart



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: BFFs, Beach Divorce, Hospitals, I'll be here for you old friend, M/M, Old Friends, Post Beach Divorce, Post-Cuba, a love that transcends enemies, hospital room
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-07
Updated: 2011-12-07
Packaged: 2017-10-27 01:04:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/289873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfsheart/pseuds/Wolfsheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the fight on the beach, Erik visits Charles in the hospital.</p>
            </blockquote>





	By Your Side

_“He’ll never walk again.  As technologically advanced as we are, we just can’t do that kind of nerve reconstruction in order to repair what the bullet damaged.  I’m sorry for your friend, but the fact that he’ll live and have full use of his arms…his mind, that’s a positive thing, right”_

Full use of his mind, Erik thought.  It was both a comfort and a terror when he thought about what Charles could do with his mind, but what it didn’t do was alleviate the knot of guilt at the pit of his stomach when he looked into the hospital room and saw him lying on that bed.  Charles’  _She didn’t do this, Erik.  You did_  would always scrape sharply at his memories; would always be that hook in his heart that would tear at it every day for the rest of his life.

He steeled his nerves by taking several deep breaths –  _Find that place between rage and serenity_  – and splayed his hand on the door, pushing it open.  It took him another two breaths before he finally made himself walk into the room.  Erik gestured at the door and it closed, then he trudged across the tiles through a mire of self-condemnation until he stood at the foot of the bed, staring down at the sleeping Charles though a blue gaze filled with what could only be a wish that he could somehow share in what his friend was going through.

“You don’t want this, Erik,” came the sleep-raspy voice.  Then inside Erik’s head, “ _Though you’d probably rise above the challenge stronger than I seem to be doing_.”

Erik didn’t even jump anymore to hear that smooth, educated voice inside his mind.  He just shook his head and reached out with one hand to set it on one blanket-covered foot, as if hoping by some miracle, the other man would be able to feel his touch.  His eyes lowered for just a moment while he collected his thoughts.

“With your determination, Charles, I highly doubt you’ll be bedridden for long,” Erik replied, wearing an encouraging smile, though when he lifted his eyes to stare up the form of that body underneath one too many hospital blankets, he knew they appeared full of the storms that plagued him.  He saw Charles shake his head.

“Stop blaming yourself, Erik.”

“You know I can’t do that, Charles.”

The silence between them became so palpable that if it were metal, Erik could have lifted if high above them and crushed it into a shape.  The shape of a gun…the gun that  _she_  used to try and stop him when the two Navies launched an inevitable death at the nine mutants left on that beach.  Those humans hadn’t even cared that Moira was one of their own; they would have destroyed her along with the mutants just to kill what they were most afraid of – nine people born different than they’d been.

 _Born superior_.

“I could…stop your guilt…”

“Charles…”

“…could ease the feelings…”

“…don’t…”

“…could make you forget that day on the beach…”

Erik lifted his eyes to stare into that handsome face that haunted him.

“You’re talking about going into my head and changing my thoughts for me.  My memories.”  He didn’t have to read minds to suddenly realize what Charles was talking about.  “That’s mercenary, Charles, and I won’t let you do it.”

“You didn’t bring Shaw’s helmet with you, Erik.  I could do it right now.”  Charles was more awake now, the drugs that allowed him to sleep wearing off, and his conviction made him sound ready to execute his suggestion.

Erik’s expression changed from holding all the compassion and guilt in the world to the sharp snap of anger, his eyes narrowing at his friend.  “You wouldn’t _dare_ …not without my permission, Charles.   _Never_  without my permission.”  As if there would come a day when Erik would allow Charles to change his memories.  Then the anger on his face softened, and the Erik who stood there was once more the one who, in tears, moved the satellite at his friend’s insistence.  And his friend’s help.

“Please, Charles…don’t…”

His fingers curled around Charles’ toes now, thumbs pressing into the soles of those blanket-covered feet.  Erik let out a sigh when there was nothing, only Charles’ blue eyes staring at him.  He felt Charles at the edge of his mind, just…hovering there, not probing.  Yet.  He could tell that his friend  _wanted_  inside his thoughts, his plans, inside his guilt, but Erik pushed back at first.

“…Charles…”

Charles Xavier was silent while he observed Erik standing there at the foot of his hospital bed.  He’d been too embarrassed at first to let Raven visit for longer than ten minutes; he hadn’t wanted to cry in front of his sister.  His strength shone in the lenses of Hank’s glasses when he, Alex and Sean had come to sit with him.  Charles couldn’t bring himself to be vulnerable around the three young men who looked up to him, who’d relied on him for training, for guidance.  Even Moira received more jokes from him than concern over his future.

With Erik, he was different.  He kept his emotions in reserve until he recognized his closest friend’s guilt, and instead of wanting to exploit it to ease his own suffering, he reached for it, as if he could take it into himself and send it away.  In opening himself up to Erik’s pain and regret, Charles opened up his own fear and anger and depression over his new helplessness.

After a heavy silence and a number of heartbeats between them, Charles finally rasped, “Alright, Erik.  I won’t.”

Charles attempted to wet his lips with a dry tongue, and Erik, without any other prompting, moved away from the foot of the bed to the bedside tray, poured the small paper cup full of ice water then brought it close and pressed the straw to the other man’s lips, nudging it between them with gentle insistence.  Both knew, though, that the telepath wouldn’t resist anything that Erik pressed to his mouth.  Charles sucked on the straw until the cold water rolled down his tongue and soothed his throat.

“Thank you, Charles,” Erik said while that mouth was busy and couldn’t answer back.  He held back the cup for a moment so that Charles could take a breath, waited until the count of three, winced at his inward count, and then offered the water again.

Those sky-like eyes stared up into Erik’s face, watching him for a sign, any sign, though he didn’t know what that sign was for.  Or perhaps Charles merely fabricated this small paranoia – seeking an ulterior motive in Erik’s eyes – as reason to rest his gaze on his friend.  His…

“You aren’t…in a hurry to leave.  Are you, Erik?” Charles asked when he finally pulled his mouth back, his head sinking once more into the pillow.

Erik brushed his knuckle against Charles’ bottom lip to break the trail of water to the tip of the straw, a reminiscent gesture that threatened to topple him into memories of the mansion and before that, the wide variety of hotels that had known them while on their quest for other mutants in the world.  Tracking them down had been exciting but left a bad taste in Erik that only surrendering to his needs and desires with Charles could take away.

“Of course not, Charles.  I’m all yours,” he answered.  Erik saw the flash of – was that interest? – in Charles’ gaze, that old playfulness that came with wiggly fingers by his temple and the knowing smirk that came with reading Erik’s not-so-wholesome thoughts.  “At least, until visiting hours are over.  The nurses here are slave-drivers.  I expect they’ll chase me out of here with riding crops and truss you up in restraints.”

“Well, then it’ll be just like old times, eh darling?” Charles tossed out and smiled his first genuine smile since that day on the beach.

Erik’s held breath released in a soft burst of laughter, and the moment that Charles returned the joking demeanor, he relaxed, some of the guilt leaving him easier than if the telepath had removed it from his mind.  When Charles held out a hand and patted the edge of his bed, Erik gestured his right hand and brought the chair close, settling into it the moment he felt the touch of it brush the backs of his knees.

“Oh my Charles,” Erik whispered now and reached out to rest his hand on the back of Charles’, gratified when that hand turned over and curled slender fingers around his wrist, palms pressed together.  “No matter how at odds we may be…I’ll always wind up by your side…”  Blue met blue, locked and held, and the two men lost themselves in conversation and laughter and each other.


End file.
